


we all go to hell

by guycecil



Category: Gintama
Genre: Double Penetration, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, this is awful honestly im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 10:15:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5413013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guycecil/pseuds/guycecil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an indistinct modern AU where the Joui 4 are all dating each other... Gintoki really just wants one thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we all go to hell

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this instead of finishing Ginzura Week prompts so... feel free to slap me. I'm sorry.

Gintoki pants. Behind him, somewhere, Takasugi grunts at… something. He’s too distracted to try to figure out what it is. Zura pulls gentle fingers through his hair. Sakamoto twists his fingers gently, and Gintoki whines.

Everyone freezes -- not that he can see it, with his eyes closed, but he can feel the tension spike. “I’m fine, you fucking morons,” he snaps. He presses backwards, and Sakamoto flicks one finger, almost experimentally, and Gintoki breathes. “Fine,” he repeats.

“You’re sure about this,” Zura says (asks) for the billionth time.

“Yes, oh my _god_.” Gintoki opens his eyes to glare up at him. “How many more times are you gonna ask?”

“Until it’s over, probably,” Takasugi drawls. Light fingers land low on Gintoki’s spine, possessive, and it takes a lot of Gintoki’s strength not to lean into the touch.

“Let him worry, Kintoki,” Sakamoto says, laughter in his voice even when he’s not actually laughing. “‘S not like Bakasugi and I are gonna.”

“Touching,” Gintoki says. Sakamoto laughs and gently strokes out and back in again, loosening Gintoki just a little more, and his muscles feel like jelly.

He lets his eyes drop shut, but he can still hear the frown in Zura’s voice when he speaks. “I should think you would all care a little bit more.”

“He’ll be fine,” Takasugi says dismissively. “Who knows what he gets up to when we’re not here? I’m sure he’s taken worse before.” His fingers are still on Gintoki’s skin, warm but not soft. He moves his thumb almost perfectly in time with Sakamoto’s hand, and Gintoki wonders if he’s watching those fingers disappear inside him, timing his movements with Sakamoto’s.

“I see no reason not to be concerned regardless,” Zura says, sounding almost offended.

“I’m right here,” Gintoki reminds them. “I’ll be fine.”

“See?” Takasugi’s hand stills. “He’ll be fine.”

Sakamoto laughs, though Gintoki’s really not sure at what -- but then again, he’s been three fingers deep in Gintoki’s ass for at least ten minutes, so he probably has a right to laugh at whatever he wants. Not that he ever _protests_ stretching Gintoki. Out of the three of them, he’s always the first to jump at the idea. Maybe the guy just has a thing for ass. Gintoki doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand any of them.

What he does understand is how bad he wants to get fucked. “I can handle one,” he says, and there is a pause -- not just the silence, but something else, and fuck them, honestly, because they’re all probably sharing glances while he’s not looking. Sakamoto drops a thumb against his ass, Takasugi smoothes his across the base of his spine, and Zura slides his over Gintoki’s hair. He wonders if they know they’re doing it.

“Takasugi first,” Zura decides. Gintoki’s not sure who put Zura in charge of any of this, but it’s not his first time handling the basic order of these things, so he trusts him.

Something thuds on the bed next to him, and when he opens his eyes he finds Takasugi’s face an inch away, grinning. “You ready?” he sneers.

Gintoki rolls his eyes. Takasugi can try for the shitface all he wants, but it won’t work -- ten minutes from now he’ll be moaning Gintoki’s name so loud the neighbors will hear it and it’ll get added to Gintoki’s rent. Fucker couldn’t stay mean if he tried.

But Sakamoto pulls his fingers from Gintoki’s ass and slowly, Gintoki straightens. His back hurts, just a little, from the awkward positioning, but he carefully climbs over Takasugi’s hips, sticks his tongue out at him while Sakamoto pops the cap on the lube and slides his hand up and down Takasugi a few slow times.

“You’re sure about no condoms?” Zura says nervously. Since he can’t keep his hands in Gintoki’s hair anymore, he drops them to the sheets, rubbing the fabric anxiously between his fingers.

“They’d only tear,” Gintoki says. Takasugi moans a little underneath him. Sakamoto’s fingers always know where to go and how to press. “‘Sides, we’re all clean. It’s fine.”

Sakamoto pulls away and Takasugi lands his hands on Gintoki’s hips. “Why don’t you get on with it, then?” Takasugi asks, smiling lazily.

“I will sit on your dick,” Gintoki threatens. Sakamoto’s hands slide to his hips as well, fingers wet and sticky, and help him line up. “And not in a sexy way.”

“Nothing you do is _sexy_.” Takasugi says the word like it’s a curse on his mother, only to breathe sharp when Gintoki slowly sinks down.

It’s not an unfamiliar sensation, to slowly be filled, but it’s not one Gintoki will ever get used to. He inches down Takasugi’s cock until his ass is pressed to the other man’s hips, and then sits there for a second, both of them breathing. Two sets of hands rest lightly on his own hips, not pressing, not asking for anything, just sitting there.

Slowly, Gintoki leans forward, propping his body up with his hands bracketing Takasugi’s chest. With a long breath in, he lifts his hips, feels Takasugi slide out of him slowly, and then drops his hips on the breath out.

“Give him a chance to adjust,” Zura murmurs, as if everyone doesn’t already know. Takasugi makes a low little noise, and his fingers tighten on Gintoki’s hips. Gintoki meets his eyes, and there’s something there, burning already.

“You wanna fuck me?” Gintoki whispers. He knows it won’t do anything -- Zura and Sakamoto are _right_ there, they can hear everything no matter what he does. “Wanna make it hurt?”

Takasugi growls. “It’s gonna hurt no matter what,” he says, and his voice is already deeper. Gintoki almost wants to roll his eyes. He’s so _easy_ to play with.

“Then make it hurt now,” he says, keeps his voice casual, and Takasugi _snarls_ and flips them.

“Takasugi!” Zura protests as he drives into Gintoki, rough, angry, _good_. Gintoki hooks his ankles over Takasugi’s calves.

“He’s fine, Zura,” Sakamoto says. Gintoki turns his head just enough to see them, Sakamoto moving to lean on Zura’s side, grinning. “Long as he doesn’t come yet, we’re good.”

“But being unnecessarily rough--”

“I can handle it!” Gintoki cuts in. Zura meets his eyes and, on an impulse, Gintoki reaches out a hand. Zura slides his fingers through his almost thoughtlessly, but his eyes still look troubled.

Before Gintoki has a chance to try to reassure him, though, Takasugi has his hand at Gintoki’s throat, fingers on his chin, yanking his head back around to face him. “Look at _me_ ,” he hisses.

Gintoki laughs, just once. “Possessive piece of shit, aren’t you?” he observes, like he doesn’t know.

“I’m fucking you,” Takasugi growls. “When they’re fucking you, then you can pay attention to them.” He finishes off the sentence with a sharp thrust, and Gintoki jerks in response, eyes falling shut while Takasugi slams into him, over and over. There’s no finesse to it, none of that bullshit Zura tries to pull, slow and careful, trying to find the right spots. Takasugi is all force and anger and heat, driving the wall of flame up in Gintoki’s stomach, knocking the bed against the wall.

Gintoki is shaking, and no one’s even touched him yet. He tightens his fingers around Zura’s, and the other responds with a swipe of his thumb across his wrist. Takasugi leans down, bites his ear, and Gintoki tries to hold in some kind of noise, ends up whimpering a little.

“What if I just fucked up your perfect little plan?” Takasugi whispers in his ear. He swipes his tongue over the spot where he just bit. “What if I come inside you right now, ruin your little dream of taking all three of us? And then if they want you bad enough they can take you while you’re still dripping wet from me.”

Gintoki tries to respond, but the heat flares in a wave and Takasugi drives into him sharp, hips furiously meeting Gintoki’s ass. He opens his mouth, but his tongue is too dry to speak. Takasugi turns his face to just the right angle and presses their lips together hard, bruising.

“What do you think?” Takasugi murmurs when he pulls away. “You wanna come like this, with no one even touching you? You want me to ruin your plan?”

Gintoki can’t hold back the moan this time, half-sobbing, and then suddenly there’s hands on him, on Takasugi, and Takasugi snarls but Zura says, “Enough. You’re not being fair.”

Gintoki takes a deep breath as they force Takasugi to back off, and as his head clears he glares at Takasugi. “Fuck you,” he snaps.

Takasugi pulls out, laughing, and Gintoki tries not to make a face at the feeling of emptiness. “Exactly, sweetheart.”

Gintoki sneers, but Zura’s hands are on him, sitting him up. Gently, those hands come to rest at his shoulders. “Are you sure?” Zura asks, one more time.

Gintoki bites back the retort. “Yes,” he says. Takasugi’s mind games won’t get him this time -- even if he is a little embarrassed that they came close.

Takasugi flops down onto his back and spreads his arms. “Come hop back on your favorite, then,” he says, smirking. Gintoki growls at him but crawls back, and Takasugi’s legs fall apart as Gintoki slowly sinks back onto him.

He tries to stay still, but it’s hard, the urge to fuck himself on Takasugi’s dick rising high in his throat. But there’s a cold finger slowly pressing at his entrance, past the ring of muscle, pressing inside, and Sakamoto is leaning over him, hot like a furnace, and he laughs a little. “What d’ya think?” he asks them.

Takasugi grunts. “Feels weird.”

Gintoki digs his fingers into the bedsheets. “‘S a lot,” he mumbles. Sakamoto hesitates, one hand resting over Takasugi’s at Gintoki’s waist.

“No?” he asks.

Gintoki shakes his head sharply. “It’s fine,” he snaps. “Give it a minute.”

And they do, waiting for Gintoki to adjust, and when he finally nods, Sakamoto presses in and up with his finger and Takasugi slides in and there is so much happening at once that he can’t help it when he drops his forehead to Takasugi’s shoulder and moans.

“Don’t move so much, I can’t do this right,” Sakamoto whines, and Gintoki doesn’t know if he’s talking to him or Takasugi, but he’s in such a haze that it doesn’t really matter either way. Sakamoto stretches him slow and easy, but also with purpose, deliberately stroking in every direction he can, and every now and then Takasugi hisses at some feeling, and Gintoki can feel them rubbing against each other inside of him.

He’s so distracted by it all that by the time Sakamoto slides in a second finger he’s forgotten how to talk, marveling at the sensation of so much inside of him, and apparently it gets Zura worried, because there are gentle fingers in his hair, and the asshole is asking, “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he mumbles. “Keep going.” It occurs to him half a second later that he should be telling Sakamoto that, and not Zura, but he’s so buried in the sensations that he can’t bring himself to correct it.

The slow minutes pass. Sakamoto adds a third finger, and they all are very still. When he spreads all three of them, Gintoki and Takasugi moan as one, and Zura’s fingers fan out across Gintoki’s back, just under his neck along his spine.

Sakamoto laughs. “You two look good like that,” he says, and he presses a kiss to Gintoki’s ass. At any other time, Gintoki would probably make fun of him, but right now he’s so absorbed in everything that he doesn’t think he physically can.

“So what do you think?” Sakamoto asks. His fingers are gentle where his hand wraps around Gintoki’s hip. “You ready for more?”

Gintoki tries very much not to show how it feels like his heart just jumped into his throat. “Yes,” he says -- or tries to say, because his voice breaks. He coughs, clears his throat and ignores Takasugi laughing at him. “Yes,” he says again, more clearly this time.

“Desperate!” Takasugi crows. “Oh god, you want this so bad, it’s disgusting.”

“Enough,” Zura cuts in before Takasugi can say more. His fingers are warm and gentle against Gintoki’s skin. It’s a different warmth than what he feels everywhere else, which is just a burning heat that slides underneath his skin. Compared to that, Zura’s fingers are almost cool.

“I’m ready,” Gintoki tells Sakamoto, twisting just enough that he can kind of vaguely make eye contact with him. Sakamoto grins, and slowly pulls his fingers out, leaving Gintoki and Takasugi whining as he does.

“Aww, don’t worry,” Sakamoto croons as he leans over them. His chest presses against Gintoki’s back, and Gintoki tries not to arch into the warmth. “You guys won’t be empty for long!”

There’s a pop behind them as Sakamoto prepares himself, and then cold pressure as he lines up. Zura’s hand on Gintoki’s back tenses. “Breathe,” he tells him, and Gintoki nods, too distracted to argue.

And then Sakamoto is pushing inside, and a tiny noise escapes Gintoki -- he’s never felt like this in his life, and it hurts, but Takasugi is moaning underneath him and Gintoki’s head drops down again and tries to breathe while Sakamoto laughs, “Holy _shit_ that’s tight!”

Gintoki’s whole body trembles. The blood rushes in his ears. Takasugi is swearing and trying not to wriggle with pleasure, but Gintoki can barely breathe. “Damn, relax,” Sakamoto tells him with a little bit of a laugh. “You’re hurting me.”

“Gintoki,” Zura says urgently, fingers sliding down to his cheek. “Gintoki! Relax. Do you want to stop?”

Gintoki shakes his head as hard as he can. “No,” he bites out. “No, keep going.”

“Okay,” Zura says reluctantly, and gently massages the back of Gintoki’s neck, the base of his scalp. “Relax,” he murmurs. He makes little gentle noises with his mouth while he massages, and slowly, between the passage of time and Zura’s careful attention, the tension slowly fades from Gintoki’s body.

He coughs once when he’s more relaxed. “Sorry,” he mutters.

Sakamoto runs a large hand down his thigh and then back up again. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, pressing kisses to Gintoki’s shoulderblades.

“Don’t let it happen again,” Takasugi mutters, and Zura tsks at him, but they all know he doesn’t mean it.

“You good?” Sakamoto asks, and Gintoki nods, and slowly, Sakamoto presses in again. Gintoki tries not to tense up again, but Sakamoto has always been the largest of them, and there’s _so much_. His breath catches, but Zura is there with a hand on his back, passing on hushed comforts as if the other two can’t hear him.

And then Sakamoto is all the way in, and Gintoki’s legs are shaking. He swallows hard, and Zura smooths his hands along Gintoki’s shoulders, up and down his biceps. He feels full and hot and his muscles are twitching with the effort it takes to stay calm. He breathes.

“So?” Takasugi demands, and Zura makes a little noise of disapproval, but they all ignore it.

Gintoki tries not to nuzzle into Takasugi’s shoulder. “Just…” In, slowly, hold it, then out. Again. Once more. He swallows. “Fuck me,” he says, finally.

Sakamoto whoops and Takasugi swears, and then suddenly they’re both moving and Gintoki swears he almost passes out right there. Their rhythms are slightly off from each other, Sakamoto just a fraction slower, but once, twice, their thrusts line up, and Gintoki groans hard into Takasugi’s skin.

Zura’s hands are in his hair, and Gintoki’s not so lost in his stupor yet that he’s forgotten about him. Wearily, he raises his head, and with one shaking hand he reaches for Zura’s dick.

“Hah,” he laughs weakly. “You try to act all cool, but look at you.” He swipes a thumb through a bead of moisture and one of Zura’s hands flies to his mouth.

“You don’t…” Zura trails off, swallows. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Gintoki says, at the same time that Takasugi finds a spot inside him and he shakes, moans. When the moment passes, he looks back up, grins. “Like what you see?”

Zura’s face is bright red, his hand still pressed to his mouth. “I don’t know how to properly respond to that,” he says with a shaky voice.

Gintoki gives his dick one slow slide of his hand. “Just tell me how much you like seeing me get fucked like this,” he says. Zura makes a little noise, and Gintoki smirks.

“The rest of us are still here, you know,” Takasugi grumbles.

“Shh,” Gintoki says dismissively. He meets Zura’s eyes. “Get closer.”

Zura shuffles a little, and Gintoki makes a face. With a quiet huff, Zura slides just that little bit closer, and Gintoki takes his chance and licks his way up Zura’s dick. Zura squeaks a little, and Gintoki half-laughs, half-moans as Takasugi and Sakamoto push in at the same time, and then, while they’re all distracted with that, he takes Zura fully into his mouth and presses down as far as he can go.

“Holy shit,” Takasugi whispers, and Sakamoto lets out a slow whistle. Zura whimpers.

Gintoki pops off of Zura just long enough to mutter, “Well don’t fucking _stop_ ,” and then goes back to sucking dick. Takasugi and Sakamoto enthusiastically go back at it, stretching him wider every time one of them pushes in. His senses are overloaded from every direction -- his skin is hot, all he can smell is sex and Zura, all he can taste is dick, the room is filled with the soft noises of their bodies against each other. Every time Takasugi moves underneath him or Sakamoto moves behind him sends another jolt straight up and down his spine. The pain has dulled to a low ache, and instead he’s burning with the feeling of them inside of him.

Zura pets his hair while he takes him deeper, fingers flinching when he takes him deepest, when he swirls his tongue. It’s hard to focus, and he’s probably sloppy as shit given how much of a distraction he has going on, but Zura seems more than content, so that’s all that matters.

And he’s not the only one -- Takasugi has hands wrapped around his biceps, using them for leverage as he throws his weight up and in. He grunts over and over again, and there’s a little sound like a growl that comes out every now and then. Behind him, Sakamoto’s hands are roaming like they do when he loses himself, sliding up his ribcage and then down to his hips, sometimes all the way down to his knees. As they both slide in, his whole body tenses and the noise that slips out only appears in the form of a hum around Zura’s dick, which just draws another quiet noise from him.

And the heat is building, lower and lower. He’s covered in sweat, full and wet and messy, and every push sends him a little closer. Zura’s hips jerk a little, slipping him in more than expected, and he likes it probably more than he should, sending another tingle down through his stomach. His breath comes in pants against Zura’s skin, his whole body shakes.

And it builds just a little more, too high, and he has to pull off of Zura, groaning even as he keeps his hand moving. “Oh, fuck,” he breathes. “ _Fuck_.”

“Gintoki?” Zura’s fingers brush his jaw.

“Keep going,” he says roughly, and then, when Sakamoto slides a hand around to grab at him, “Don’t!”

“What’s the point in dragging it out?” Takasugi demands. His own fingers are twitching, like he’d like to be the one pulling it out of him.

“Not dragging it out,” Gintoki pants. He swallows, groans into Zura’s thigh. “Oh, _fuck_ , god… Don’t need it.”

“Oh christ,” Sakamoto whispers, and Takasugi moans agreement.

He’s intensely aware of Zura’s fingers in his hair, Takasugi’s on his arms, Sakamoto’s at his waist, and every touch, every whisper of skin against his is driving him even further. His toes curl, his whole body goes tense. He feels like he’s about to cry.

And then they both press in at once and Zura’s thumb slips behind his ear and he whispers, “ _Fuck_ ,” and that’s all the warning they get before he comes, spilling out over Takasugi’s stomach, and they haven’t even touched him once.

“Stop, stop!” Zura is saying urgently when he comes back to himself. He’s panting, body still shaking, and he’s honestly just glad he didn’t crush Zura’s dick in his hand. Zura carefully pries his hand off and starts to push Sakamoto away, and Gintoki looks up, still in a daze.

“What’re you doing?” he demands.

“Don’t worry about it, Kintoki,” Sakamoto says cheerfully as he starts to pull out. “Kinda figured it would go that way.”

“You’re not done,” Gintoki snaps.

“Obviously,” Takasugi drawls. “Since someone came like a teenager.”

Gintoki glares at him, starts to speak, feels his face go red. He drops his forehead to Takasugi’s shoulder again so no one will see his face when he speaks. “I meant you’re not done with _me_.”

“Yes, we are,” Zura disagrees.

“No, you’re not.” Gintoki curls his fingers around Zura’s thigh. “You’re not done till you all come inside me.”

Silence.

“Well, you don’t have to tell me twice,” Sakamoto says, and starts to push in again.

“No, no, no!” Zura’s hands are on them again, coming in between. “Don’t you dare!” His fingers land on Gintoki’s face, tipping his chin up so he can look into his eyes. “You’re not thinking clearly. You’re going to get overstimulated and it’s not going to be nice. We can take care of ourselves.”

“I don’t care, I want it,” Gintoki growls. He looks away from Zura, straight into Takasugi’s eyes. “Fuck me,” he demands.

Takasugi’s face is stoic and stony. “You want me to die, don’t you?”

“Fuck me!” he snaps. He slides the fingers of one hand through Takasugi’s hair, reaches over with his thumb to brush the edge of his medical eyepatch. “Please,” he whispers. “Come on, you know you want me like this. I’m gonna be so easy.”

“Fucking hell,” Sakamoto mumbles. Takasugi’s face twists, echoing the sentiment.

“You, too,” Gintoki says. He looks back over his shoulder, ignoring the exhaustion it sets through his body. “Please.”

All eyes flick to Zura, and Gintoki wants to scream. It’s _his_ ass, damn it, who cares what Zura thinks!

And Zura sets his jaw, eyes dropping down to Gintoki momentarily. Gintoki makes the most of that moment, letting his mouth hang open just a little, biting at his lip, sliding his thumb up Zura’s thigh. Zura’s face goes red and he looks away. _Jackpot_ , Gintoki thinks.

“Fine!” Zura says finally, not looking at any of them. “But the second it gets to be too much for him I’m stopping it!”

Gintoki barely has time to register their responses before they’re pushing into him again, and his eyes fall half-lidded. They’re slow at first, building, and then Takasugi gives one hard push that slides just right along Sakamoto and just right over something inside of Gintoki and the two of them moan together. Gintoki turns his head to the side and pulls Zura back into his mouth.

It’s… a lot. More than before, though he’s not willing to let on to that, given Zura’s reactions. But every time one of them presses in the right way it sends a jolt through his already exhausted system, and he shakes through most of it. He does his best to stay calm, but it’s hard.

“You are so fucked,” Takasugi whispers, and Gintoki pretends like he doesn’t notice, but he’s so tired, and they’ve stretched him so much. His muscles ache. There’s more pain than excitement that tingles down him when they slide against each other.

“Kintokiii,” Sakamoto singsongs, slowing. “You sure you’re okay?”

He hums around Zura’s cock, but it’s weak. He feels like his arms are about to give out.

“Enough,” Zura says then, and when Gintoki pulls away to protest he lands a hand over his mouth. “No,” he says. “Enough.”

Sakamoto pulls out and they all ignore Gintoki’s whines. Even Takasugi willingly pulls out, and Gintoki somehow winds up lying on his back on top of Sakamoto. He lets his head fall backwards, feeling thoroughly defeated.

“So now what?” Takasugi asks sourly. He wipes half-heartedly at the dried semen on his stomach, making a face. “Since Plan A ended sooner than expected.”

“Aww, don’t feel so bad about it,” Sakamoto says. He has one arm wrapped firmly around Gintoki’s middle and the other between his legs, distractedly playing with his own dick. Gintoki watches him sleepily.

Zura sighs. “I don’t care,” he says. “I’m sure you can figure something out for yourself.”

Takasugi scowls. “You say that like you aren’t in the same boat as the rest of us.”

“And I can certainly take care of it myself,” Zura huffs.

“You’re so fucking _boring_ ,” Takasugi whines. “Are you upset because Gintoki couldn’t finish blowing you? So now you’re taking it out on us?”

Gintoki has half a mind to mention that he still _could_ finish blowing Zura, but he’s too distracted watching Sakamoto stroke himself. It’s a lazy thing, he’s probably more occupied with the argument in front of them, but the movement is entrancing, the repetition mesmerizing.

“I don’t have time for your projection,” Zura says stiffly, which is a dead giveaway.

“Oh god, you are,” Takasugi says in disbelief. “What, you want me to blow you? I’ll do it if you can figure out a better option for the rest of us.”

“I don’t know, I’m fine like this,” Sakamoto cuts in. Gintoki jumps a little -- he’d forgotten he was a real person, and not just a hand on a dick.

Takasugi looks over, opens his mouth to retort, and then frowns even deeper than he already was. “Are you actually fucking hard again?”

“I’ve been hard!” Sakamoto protests.

“Not you!” Takasugi snaps, and Gintoki looks down and is, to be completely honest, surprised to see that he is indeed hard again.

“Oh,” he says. He twists his neck to look at Sakamoto. “You’re fun to watch.”

Sakamoto laughs. “Any time,” he says, and presses a kiss to Gintoki’s cheek.

Takasugi looks over at Zura, a new light in his eyes. He doesn’t even have to say anything -- they’re all thinking it.

Zura purses his lips, glances around at all of them, his gaze lingering longest on Gintoki. Finally, he looks away, defeated. “It’s not up to me.”

“Oh god, please,” Gintoki says, and Takasugi breathes a sigh of relief.

“Me too, me too!” Sakamoto sings, and then laughs. Gintoki’s not sure what’s so funny, but then Sakamoto’s lining himself up from underneath Gintoki and pushing back in (and oh god, he never realized until now how _empty_ he felt) and Takasugi’s putting in that first pressure, too, and he moans before he even has a chance to really think.

He reaches for Zura without thinking, too, and then he has all three of them inside him, Takasugi and Sakamoto sliding together, and for a half-second Gintoki thinks he’s never felt such perfect bliss. He spreads his legs a little wider, buries his fingers in the sheets, and Sakamoto holds him close and warm.

He pops off Zura for a second, looks up at him and licks around his mouth. “Am I asking for too much if I ask you to fuck my face?”

Zura’s face goes even redder than before -- and Gintoki hadn’t even thought that was possible. “Why are you like this?” he asks, and he almost sounds like he might cry.

Gintoki frowns. His whole body jolts when Sakamoto pushes in. “Look, I’m not even asking because it’d be hot, I’m just too exhausted to do it myself.”

Zura covers his eyes and even his shoulders and chest are turning red. “Fine! Fine. Just stop talking.”

“I won’t be able to talk if I’ve got your dick in my mouth,” Gintoki points out, and then suddenly Sakamoto has gentle fingers on his jaw, turning his head so he can press their mouths together.

And the kiss is _hot_ , Sakamoto’s tongue is just as insistent as his dick, pressing hard all around and for a moment he forgets where he is -- all that exists is everything pressing into him, Sakamoto’s arms, both of them inside of him, and he can barely breathe with it all.

Sakamoto pulls away grinning, and Gintoki is left in a daze. “Sorry,” Sakamoto laughs. “Just wanted to get that in there before you were busy with other things.” He glances up at Zura. “He tastes like you.”

Zura whimpers a little, and Gintoki has just enough presence of mind to briefly consider the idea of Sakamoto finding out exactly what Zura tastes like before Takasugi is leaning up, too, and he moans into the next pair of lips that find his.

Takasugi pulls away, face red with the heat or embarrassment or something else. “Fuck you,” he mutters.

“Please,” Gintoki says, exhausted, and Takasugi groans and drops his head onto Gintoki’s chest, driving into him with renewed force.

Zura gently turns his head then, and Gintoki opens his mouth with silent acceptance, eagerness, even. Zura is so soft, so gentle at first, and then Gintoki presses his tongue up along just the right spot and his hips stutter forward. Gintoki moans around him and Sakamoto hikes him a little higher up his body, fucks into him rough.

“I hate you,” Takasugi mumbles against his skin, but Gintoki can’t even find the energy to open his eyes and look at him. “You look… fucking…”

“Fucking hot,” Sakamoto says as he presses a kiss to his jaw. “How’d we end up with you?”

Takasugi growls, just a low hum against Gintoki’s skin, and Gintoki breathes hard -- he doesn’t know how to respond to that, and he couldn’t even if he wanted to. Zura’s careful control is slowly slipping, his movements more erratic. There are three of them sliding into him and he can’t remember ever wanting anything else. The thought of it is overwhelming, and he has a split second to regret not having thought to ask someone tape the whole thing before someone finds a spot inside him that sends waves of heat all through his body, settling between his legs, and he half-sobs around Zura’s dick and that control disappears completely for just one moment. He slips just that little bit too far in, and Gintoki chokes for less than a second before he’s backing off.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” he apologizes, and he pulls all the way out. Gintoki’s jaw vaguely aches, and he can barely process what just happened. Zura kisses him so soft he almost doesn’t realize he’s being kissed. “Sorry,” he mumbles again. “I’ll just…”

“Do that again,” Gintoki says, half numb. Takasugi hits that spot again and his breath catches, his stomach tenses.

“W-what?”

“Choke me with it!” he demands, urgent. He can feel it building again, too fast, and Takasugi and Sakamoto are getting close, too, and he can’t leave Zura behind, he can’t. “Just fucking do it, I don’t care, I want it.”

“You’re an idiot,” Zura whispers and Gintoki hisses, reaches for him, and he doesn’t resist. He slips back into Gintoki’s mouth, then shoves all the way in at the same time that Sakamoto’s fingers trail over one of his nipples and he actually does sob this time.

And oh god, it’s so good, the three of him cradling him careful, slamming into him -- he feels safe and needed and warm, which probably shouldn’t make sense right now. Takasugi groans into his stomach and Sakamoto’s arms tighten, Zura’s skin presses to his nose. They’re all familiar and warm. He breathes, chokes on the breath, and Zura’s dick.

“Haha, fuck,” Sakamoto whispers, and Gintoki can feel him come more than he can hear it or see it, warmth spreading inside him -- literally, as Sakamoto fills him with more than just his dick. Takasugi swears, slams into him hard. He gags as Zura shoves in once more.

And it feels like Sakamoto _never_ stops coming, until finally, groaning, he purposely slips out. “Oh fucking hell,” Takasugi says, and it sounds like a sob. He shoves his face into a spot on the side of Gintoki’s neck, underneath Sakamoto’s chin. “He’s like fucking dripping.”

Zura groans and his hips slip, throwing off his rhythm, and Gintoki’s teeth just barely brush the ridge of his dick -- Takasugi fucks inwards one more time, and Gintoki can hear the sound it makes, and then they both come.

Zura’s fingers are tight in his hair as he lets go into Gintoki’s mouth, and he fights his gag reflex as hard as he can, swallows down as much as possible. Takasugi bites down ( _too high_ , Gintoki thinks, but he can’t do anything about it) and releases, too, and they both slip out, leaving him feeling wet and used and exhausted -- and still hard.

Sakamoto reaches for him first, underneath Takasugi’s body. Zura bends to kiss him and Takasugi arches over him, licking smooth over the spot where he bit, sucking down his throat. Gintoki pants into Zura’s mouth as Sakamoto’s big, careful fingers stroke him so close, and then he loses it all and comes onto his own stomach and Takasugi’s one more time.

He feels like he’s in a daze for a long time afterwards, lost in a cloud that smells like his boyfriends and sex until he feels something wet and warm between his legs and he thinks he groans something but isn’t sure what it is.

“Shh,” Zura murmurs soft into his ear. “Just let me clean you up.”

“Fuck you,” Gintoki grumbles, but he’s not sure why. Someone laughs.

They clean him slowly, and he thinks they slip him into pajamas, but he’s not sure. The last thing he’s consciously aware of is being turned on his side, a warm body behind him and another in front. Soft hands land on his waist, his shoulder, bracketing him in, and he falls asleep with someone’s hair in his nose and Zura humming in his ear and thinks, _fuck yeah._

* * *

He wakes up to a messy, empty bed. His head is foggy and for a few moments he just wonders how the hell Sakamoto woke up before him -- Zura is always the first up, and the sound of the coffeemaker usually wakes Takasugi next, but nothing can wake Sakamoto except Sakamoto himself. Gintoki usually wakes up feeling like he’s sleeping next to a furnace, with Sakamoto hanging over him and pressing sleep kisses to his neck.

But he rolls over and even the space where Sakamoto should be is cold, so he huffs and opens his eyes, and when he sees the bottle of lube sitting uncapped on the nightstand, everything comes rushing back.

He rolls onto his stomach and groans into the pillow -- he remembers now, and he can feel the ache in his back and between his legs now, worse even than his first time as a teenager, and when he sits up he feels dizzy. He can hear something sizzling from the kitchen, and his stomach growls. He takes the blanket with him when he finally rolls out of bed, wrapping it tight around his shoulders.

He stumbles into the kitchen to find Sakamoto and Takasugi already seated, shoving food in their mouths like they’re starving. Takasugi takes one look at him and snorts. “You look like shit,” he says, and Sakamoto apparently finds this hilarious, because he giggles like a hyena.

“Fuck you,” Gintoki says, and drops into a chair. He winces.

Takasugi smirks. “Looks like you’ve already got the fucking taken care of.”

“Fuck. You.”

Sakamoto finally finishes giggling and waves until he gets Takasugi’s attention. “Show him the picture.”

“What picture?” Gintoki asks warily as Takasugi rolls his eyes (eye) and unlocks his phone. “What the fuck did you guys do?”

“You,” Takasugi answers, and turns his phone around for Gintoki to see.

The blood rushes to his face. It’s not a… horrible angle, he supposes, but it’s certainly not the most flattering picture that’s ever been taken of him, sprawled out on his side, someone’s hand in his hair, dripping from his ass, his chest covered in his own semen. His lips are bright red, flecked with trails of white, and… Oh. That’s why his jaw hurts. He’d forgotten.

“That… You…” He splutters haltingly, not sure how to respond, and his face feels so hot he thinks he might boil alive inside his own skull. “Why the fuck would you take that?!”

Takasugi shrugs. “Thought you might wanna know what you looked like.”

Gintoki will absolutely never admit that it’s true, not even if it kills him, but he levels his best glare at Takasugi while Sakamoto starts laughing again.

Zura descends from nowhere, snatching the phone out of Takasugi’s hand and ignoring his noise of protest. “And he’ll delete it if you don’t want it to exist anymore,” he says, giving Takasugi and Sakamoto both a serious look.

Gintoki’s face flushes brighter -- half because Zura’s protectiveness is embarrassing and half because he _likes_ it. “It doesn’t matter,” he mutters. “Just leave it.”

“Are you sure?” And god, those words will probably annoy him for the rest of his life now.

“Yes,” he says, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s fine, it’ll give him something to jack off to when the rest of us decide we’re too good for him.”

“Fuck you,” Takasugi snaps as he snatches his phone back.

Gintoki smirks. “Already done that, haven’t you?”

Takasugi splutters with frustration as Zura tsks disapprovingly and sets a plate in front of Gintoki. “Here,” he says, and lands a hand on Gintoki’s head. “All of it. There’s more if you want it.”

He rubs gently behind Gintoki’s ear and he tries not to be distracted by it. “Don’t have to tell me twice,” he mumbles, and reaches for a fork.

Takasugi disappears into the kitchen with his dishes and his phone, grumbling to himself, and Zura takes his place at the table with his own plate. “Do you feel okay?” he asks. He reaches out, lands long, soft fingers on Gintoki’s wrist.

And fuck him for being cute, honestly. Gintoki makes a point of not looking at him. “‘M fine. Back hurts. Ass too.” Sakamoto snickers. Gintoki pauses. “And my jaw.”

Zura makes a quiet noise of distress. “I’m sorry. I… might have gone too far.”

Gintoki rolls his eyes. “Nothin’ I didn’t ask for.”

Zura mumbles something Gintoki doesn’t catch, but he doesn’t ask. Sakamoto stands up and heads for the kitchen, but he lands a hand on Gintoki’s shoulder and rubs gently through the blanket. “You want a massage when you’re done eating?”

“Is it a sexy massage?” Gintoki asks, craning his neck to look up and behind.

Sakamoto opens his mouth, but Zura cuts in with a firm, “No. Not for at least two days.”

Gintoki and Sakamoto both roll their eyes, and Sakamoto gives him a pat on the shoulder as he heads for the kitchen. He pauses in the doorway, winking and pressing a finger to his lips. Gintoki smirks.

“Was it really okay?” Zura asks when they’re alone. His voice is soft, worried.

Gintoki looks over at him, but he’s not looking up, his eyes focused on chasing the last bits of food around his plate. “What do you mean?”

“If you…” Zura bites the inside of his cheek, still refusing to look up. “If you didn’t enjoy it, I don’t think I could live with a repeat performance. And the other two have already expressed enthusiastic desire for one.”

A rush of heat flares down to Gintoki’s stomach -- he wonders how long they spent looking at that fucking picture, what they said about him, but part of him almost likes that he was too far gone to know what it could have been.

“Zura,” he says. He reaches for his hand, because Zura’s soft and feely like that, and he’ll believe him if he’s holding his hand. He slips their fingers together. “Look, I swear to god, that was probably the best fucking thing you three have ever done to me, and if they want a _repeat performance_ , I am absolutely not going to say no, ever.”

Zura looks at him like he doesn’t know whether to believe him or not, and then he sighs and looks down at his plate. His shoulders relax and he sighs. “It’s not Zura, it’s Katsura.”

Gintoki groans.

From the kitchen, Sakamoto yells, “Takasugi and I are gonna take a sexy shower and anyone who wants to join is welcome!” This is immediately followed by a noise of protest from Takasugi, and Sakamoto cackles. “Okay, never mind, you’re not welcome!”

Zura sighs again, sounding kind of like a mother with too many rowdy children, and Gintoki smiles, and then does his absolute best to pretend that smiling is not a thing.

 


End file.
